Last Year's Snow
by Nokomiss
Summary: Even death can’t stop a true hero. Sandman crossover.


Title: Last Year's Snow

Summary: Even death can't stop a true hero.

Word count: 1127

Characters: Stephanie Brown, Death

Rating: PG

AN: Crossover with Sandman, written for Rainpuddle13's drabble prompt, "Female!Robin, Death and a stone of some sort".Takes place post-Batgirl 62. Title taken from Robert Lowell's "Ballad for the Dead Ladies."

* * *

"I've told you about that."

To her credit, Steph didn't topple over, as she had the first time Death had popped up behind her. Well, she didn't suppose Death actually popped, but it was alarming to suddenly have a _ presence_ behind her that hadn't been noticeable before.

"I couldn't _not_!" she protested. It had been Cass, and she couldn't let her best friend just die when she could do something about it. Odd, how she seemed to be much more of a help now that she was dead.

Death gave her a gentle smile. "It's not your job to decide."

Steph resisted pointing out that it was Death's job, and she'd apparently agreed with her. Cass was alive and as well as she ever had been, and now Steph was getting another of the endless lectures that seemed to accompany the afterlife. Granted, they didn't normally come from an actual one of the Endless.

Steph sat down on the ledge and toyed with the pebbles that were littered on the roof. There had once been a rooftop garden here, landscaped and beautiful, but now only dead stalks and debris remained. She could go anywhere now, be surrounded by anything, but this remained her favorite spot. Not-Gotham spread before her, mirroring the real one exactly, with dead Gothamites milling through the streets that seemed only barely more chaotic than the real thing.

She didn't know what Cass was doing right now, but she hoped that she could remember something about their encounter. She wanted Cass to know that she was alright. That things could still be okay. She hadn't seen Tim, hadn't been able to reach him except in the most fuzzy of dreams, but she knew he needed someone bright now more than ever. It fell on Cass to be that for him, now that she couldn't.

Funny how Robin was the one who desperately needed someone bright and cheerful. If only...

She shook her head. Regrets were meaningless now. She'd lived as long as she'd been meant to, and no amount of unfinished business would bring her back. No desperate wishes for things to be different.

Death perched on the ledge beside her. "It's a rad city, you know. I've seen lots, and this is one of my favorites."

"Because it keeps you busy?" Steph asked.

Death laughed, a strangely sparkling sound that made it nearly impossible for Steph to not smile herself. "No, because of how desperately people cling to_ life_ there. It's dangerous, dark, and horrible things lurk around every corner, yet still people have hope. They still love and laugh and hold themselves up as better because of it. It's beautiful, don't you think?"

"You really think that's beautiful?" Steph asked. "Isn't it just kind of sad?"

Death shook her head. "I've seen lots. Places where people take life for granted? Are deadly dull, for the most part. They meet me and are surprised, or go into denial. It gets annoying, really. But Gothamites- they die fighting and hopeful and furious and sometimes bringing someone else along for the ride. People fight for a better world for their children there, and that's the best anyone can do."

"What we do is never enough," Steph said. She refuses to let herself think of the baby out there that might have her eyes or laugh. Maybe one day, after time has passed and she has grown used to not being able to _do_ anything... She rolled the pebble in her hand, leaving smears of dirt on her green gloves. "There are so many monsters, and too few heroes. I couldn't let one of the few heroes die."

"See?" Death said. She took the pebble from Steph, leaving her with nothing to do with her hands but rub the dirt off her gloves. "Even after they die, the people from this place do everything they can to make it better. You died so this city could continue on, better than it was."

"No, I died because of a stupid--"

Death cut her off. "It isn't how you die that matters, Stephanie Brown. It's what you did with your life. And you made yourself a hero. You still are compelled to do what you see as right, even knowing the repercussions. That is beautiful. And that is why Cassandra is still alive."

"This is where you tell me not to do it again, isn't it?" Steph asked.

"It really isn't your place to decide these things," came the reply. "But were it to happen again- would you really be able to do anything? It took an impressive amount of will to be able to appear to her like that."

"It wasn't easy," Steph agreed. She didn't say aloud that she was certain she could do it again if it would save Cass or Tim's life, but she knew that Death probably was well aware of that. "Is there an easier way? To contact the living, I mean."

"You can't," Death said. She patted her arm reassuringly. "He's moving on. They all are. That is the nature of the living. It wouldn't be fair to any of you, if you were to contact them."

"So it's forbidden. Got it," Steph said. "I'm used to hearing that. Just- are they alright? Without me?"

"It's hard to hear," Death said, "but they learn to cope without you. It's what the living do."

Steph nodded, staring down at the street below. The night sky above her glittered with more stars than had ever been visible over Gotham.

Death stood, holding her arms out wide, and twirled. "Stop moping around!"

Steph grinned, remembering doing nearly the same thing the first time she had stood on a ledge without feeling queasy.

"The city is yours," Death said. She crouched, pinched at Steph's cheek, and grinned. "Have fun and turn that frown upside down!"

Then- Death was gone. Steph stood alone in the perennial darkness that ensconced this shade of her city (because it just wasn't hers in the daylight) and took in a deep, unnecessary breath. Feather-light clumps of snow had started to fill the sky, illuminated against florescent lights, though the temperature remained blandly temperate. She scooted her toes right to the edge of the ledge, and fired a line. She could probably fly without the lines now, since she couldn't exactly die twice and the laws of physics seemed more like just guidelines in these realms, but she enjoyed the familiar sensations.

She couldn't help the shriek of joy that escaped her as she swung through the city, snowflakes sticking in her hair, and hoped that Cass and Tim were doing the same. Joy shouldn't be the sole providence of the dead, even in Gotham.

Steph flew, triumphant.


End file.
